Deprivation
by Strawberrywaltz
Summary: "When Clint had regained consciousness he quickly realized that 'they' were purposefully depriving him of his senses and control – whoever 'they' were." Hawkeye Whump
1. Chapter 1

_First Avengers fiction - I'm a little nervous! I hope you guys enjoy my little tale because I enjoyed writing it. _

_This was not beta'd so all the mistakes you find are mine..._

_I do plan on having this beta'd...I am in the market for an Avengers' fan to do beta work for more possible Avengers' fic's. PM me if interested. Thanks! Me and grammar have never been friend's, but we do try to get along as best we can._

_I do not own or profit from anything Avengery..._

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Depravation Chapter One

Silence and darkness surrounded Clint 'Hawkeye' Barton – the perfect combination of torture for someone whose survival relied so much on his hearing and sight. Clint wasn't sure how long he'd been in the claustrophobic space – minutes, hours, or days it was all the same. The lack of sight and sounds made it impossible for Barton to know how much space was around him. It felt small but Barton could be in a warehouse for all he knew.

Clint was upright in a chair held in place with heavy chains bolted into what he assumed to be the floor. The clinking of the chains vibrated off of the walls once he got his stiff muscles to obey him once again – so it was a small space he was trapped in. The archer's arms were secured in heavy manacles behind his back and Barton was pretty sure his left wrist was either sprained or broken – it was hard to tell after the loss of circulation.

Whatever had happened had left Clint's body worse for wear. The pain went bone deep in his right knee, his left side and right arm. His face was relatively unscathed apart from a cut just above his right eye that leaked blood sluggishly down the side of his face. For the most part nothing other then his wrist appeared broken – cracked and painful yes, broken not so much.

Even though the room was already darker than night the 'bad guys' had decided a heavy blindfold was necessary – the scratchy fabric tied painfully tight over Clint's closed eyes. A thick rag – or two – had been stuffed into Barton's mouth with a thick strip of silver duck tape pressed over the archer's lips to secure the gag. It was impossible for the assassin to call out and demand his captor's attention or form a sound that reflected a word in general – if only to prompt someone to give him the knowledge of what the hell he was doing there and why.

When Clint had regained consciousness he quickly realized that 'they' were purposefully depriving him of his senses and control – whoever 'they' were. Clint had taken to humming around the rags to break the silence and rebel against his captor's plans on keeping him mute. In his mind Barton figured there was a camera or something that allowed his captors to watch him.

Most psychopaths enjoyed watching their hostages suffer. Honestly most of the people who had taken the time to chain the assassin up also took the time to torture and taunt him in person – the silent treatment was a new tactic and oddly it worried Clint more than he let show on his blank expression.

The humming lasted for a few hours or so – Clint mostly hummed his favorite songs from Tony's rock collection and a few of his personal favorite oldies – only to stop when the air began to get noticeably tight.

It took Clint mere minutes to come up with a short list of reasons for the air being thin in the room. The top reason was the one the Hawk feared the most – he was in a container buried in the Earth completely separated from fresh air.

Of course there were other, more probable reasons for the air being thin. The bad guys could simply have rigged the ventilation system in some way that they could control it and mess with his head and get him to break. There were probably other perfectly logical reasons as well – though Clint couldn't really think of any more. The master assassin was still hung up on his top fear.

To die in silent darkness trapped in what would end up being his coffin – unable to move or fight as he suffocated to death – was a nightmare.

Beads of cold sweat broke out over Clint's body as the panic rose within him. It took every ounce of self-control the master assassin had to slow his breathing – in and out deep through the nose – and hopefully buy himself some more time.

The team had to be looking for him – help was on the way.

Pushing the panic of his current situation aside Barton tried to remember the events that had led him to this place.

The day had started out normally enough. Except that Natasha and Thor were absent from the tower. Natasha had been called off to use her talents on a solo mission and Thor had gone home for some sort of festive occasion.

That left Clint, Steve and the Science Brothers on call in the Avengers' tower.

Steve spent the morning reading, grateful for the solitude since Bruce and Tony were locked away in one of the labs working on some project. Once the Science Bro's started working on something it was very difficult to get them to stop until it was completed – threats to the world were typically the only thing that worked.

Clint had spent most of the morning in the shooting rang – personal one on one time with his bow and arrows cleared his mind better than a breath of fresh air could. It was something that kept him levelheaded after the whole ordeal with Loki. Having your mind raped was not something someone got over quickly – Clint wasn't sure if he'd ever manage to atone for the murder and devastation he helped cause.

The other Avengers were more than supportive – they were the reason Clint Barton was still alive.

Natasha had barely left his side that first month – his silent period. After Thor had escorted his torturer back to Asguard Hawkeye had stopped talking – there was nothing to say. With his hands Clint had killed Shield agents – many of those agents were people he considered friends – as well as innocent people – saying 'sorry' just didn't seem to be enough.

Tony had insisted he and Tasha move into the grand new Avenger's tower with the others – which they did mostly because Clint was no longer welcomed among their coworkers in the barracks of Shield. Though most of the agents understood it hadn't been Clint killing their friends and comrades by his own free will there were those who didn't understand how Clint hadn't been punished for his rouge actions.

Ironically it was Tony that had finally gotten Clint to break his vow of silence. Where Natasha had been patient and silently supported her partner during his morning period Tony had taken Clint's silence as a challenge of sorts. His constant prodding and poking had eventually broken through Barton's thick walls made up mostly of self-loathing and overwhelming guilt.

With Stark and Natasha's supervision and the support of the rest of the team Clint slowly returned back to the land of the living. It wasn't long after he regained his voice that Clint 'Hawkeye' Barton regained his smile and the ability to laugh once again. Even Barton's dark sense of humor had been restored – much to Tasha's pleasure and the surprise of the other Avengers who hadn't known him before Loki.

Things had gotten better in some ways, but the nightmares still plagued Clint every time he closed his eyes. Flashes of memories of the time Hawkeye spent unmade – the things Clint had done and the things that he'd let Loki do tortured his still healing mind.

That night's imagery had been particularly hard on the archer's heart – thus Clint had turned to his favorite kind of therapy.

Another arrow flew through the air slamming in the blue center of the target. There were nearly twenty arrows filling up the space in neat rows – Clint had started at the bottom of the center circle and slowly filled up the space arrow after arrow.

"Nice shot, Birdbrain." Stark's voice sounded from the doorway.

Turning Clint smirked a bit as he eyed the casual figure of his comrade. "Finished with your little science project?"

"Hit a snag." Tony shrugged, pushing off the frame of the door to walk closer to his friend. "Turns out the materials we were working with have quite the explosive reaction."

A light chuckle escaped the archer as he turned back to the target. "Oh, so that's why the building shook a half hour ago." Clint loosed another arrow and lined up his shot. "I had figured Thor had returned." The new arrow was released into flight and landed solidly next to the previous arrow.

"Ha, well – " Tony shrugged off the comment. "No Prince of Thunder, just a couple of crispy scientists."

Barton snorted, eyeing Tony again. "A silly mistake for two of the world's smartest men to make, wouldn't you say?"

Acting hurt Tony grasped the front of his shirt over his glowing heart. "You wound me!" He claimed, but sobered and stepped closer to play the tip of an arrow lying on the table. "Mistakes happen when working with alien substances and that's all I'll say in our defense." Stark glared playfully at Clint before clearing his throat. "Well, that and it was Bruce's fault. Anyway, I came to ask if you'd join the rest of the guys and myself for lunch. Steve wants to try out some Japanese stake house downtown."

"The Captain, huh?" Clint narrows his eyes skeptically but places his bow aside as he sheds his armguard.

"Okay," Tony raises his hands in a sign of defeat. "I was craving sushi and got the Capsicle and Bruce to agree. So, you in?"

"Why not?" Clint nodded lightly. "It has been a while since I've had a good Dragon Roll."

As it turned out lunch didn't go exactly as planned.

Apparently the Avenger's Science Brothers were not the only scientists in the city experimenting with unstable materials that day. Except instead of a small controlled explosion the other idiots in the city accidentally turned themselves into freak-show super villains that warranted the Avengers stepping in to save the day.

One of the scientists had gained the ability to touch anything and spark a charge within its molecular make up that would cause it to eventually go boom. Thankfully Tony figured this out before any of them got to close to the guy – several pigeons weren't so lucky.

The second man grew twice his size and was currently demonstrating his new-found and rather impressive strength too Captain America and the newly transformed Hulk.

Basically the four Avengers had their hands full.

While Captain America and Hulk led their monster-scientist away from his partner Tony and Clint worked together to try and subdue Molecular Bomber – and yes Tony, that was a lame super villain name – from a safe distance. Hulk Wannabe for the second guy was worse though. Tony hovered around in the safety of his Ironman suit as Clint perched himself on top of a three-story parking garage and shot an assortment of arrows at his target.

Apparently MB got tired of being shot at from afar and changed his tactics – charging the entire first floor of the parking garage Hawkeye was shooting from before bounding away.

"Ironman!" Hawkeye growled, trying to get a lift before his perch blew him sky high, but Tony was still getting used to the gently – grabbing – someone – at – high – speeds – without – slamming – into – them thing. One minute Clint was standing on the edge of the building the next he was hit by the human-suit equivalent of a semi truck.

"Shit, sorry!" Tony fumbled mid-air to maintain his hold Hawkeye as the shockwave of the blast hit them. Dazed Clint tried to breeze through a checklist of his bones and what might be broken from the impact of his friend. Of course it took the assassin a second to realize Ironman still hadn't actually gotten a hold of him yet.

With a frantic final grab Tony managed to snatch the Hawk's free arm causing Clint to stammer squawk up at his supposed savoir. "Loosen – loosen your grip, fuck Stark, you're crushing my damn arm!" The grinding of his wrist bones nearly caused the archer to scream and his only relief was when Tony dropped him unceremoniously on the street.

Unable to get his feet under him the normally graceful Hawk rolled on the street – curling in tight to lessen the damage to his body.

"Gee, I save your life and the first thing you do is yell at me! That's gratitude for you!" Ironman ranted, landing next to Clint as he rolled to a stop on the ground.

"I really need to buy you a dictionary." Hawkeye hissed up at Ironman whose head was tilted downward looking at the assassin's sprawled out form.

If Tony's mask wasn't blocking his face Clint could imagine a look of confusion. "That wasn't at all completely and frighteningly random – exactly how hard did I hit you?"

"Hard enough." Clint snapped climbing slowly back to his feet.

"Okay, so why the dictionary?" Tony pressed curiously stalling while Jarvis covertly ran a quick scan of Hawkeye's body for signs of serious injury. Apparently the collision hadn't done too much damage – just badly battered Hawkeye's body. Bone deep bruises and a possible slight concussion depending on what Clint said next.

Hawkeye flexed his painful wrist – the skin already bruising into the shape of Ironman's hand – before glaring back at Tony. "You clearly need to reacquaint yourself with the word '_soft_.'"

"I'm called Ironman, not Fluffy-Pillow-Man." Stark shot back as he moved closer to get a better look at his teammates abused wrist. At least Clint didn't seem concussed – at least no more then usual. "How bad?"

"I'll be fine," Clint switched his bow back to his injured hand before glancing around at the quiet street. "Where'd Molecular Balls go?"

"Bomb, not Balls."

"_Whatever_."

An explosion cued them in on Clint's question and the duo were off to rejoin the fight.

As it turned out the affects on the scientists of mayhem – also a lame name Tony – were not permanent. Once they reverted back into boring old – although still significantly insane – scientists the men were easily subdued.

After the fighting had finished Captain Bully and Ironmotherhen both forced Hawkeye to be checked out by a waiting Shield medical personal and promptly abandoned him as they tried to go un-Hulk Banner.

Sitting the back of the med-bus Clint silently allowed his wrist to be manipulated and several of his more painful bruises to be poked. His only protest sounded when one of the men pulled out a syringe.

"There's no need to give me anything." Barton waved him off quickly the archer always had an aversion to pain meds. They tended to cloud his mind, which was dangerous for someone in his profession. Clint couldn't aim if he couldn't see straight.

The man glanced at the others with him for what looked like reassurance before turning back to Clint. "We insist." The man's sharp little smile was enough to catch Hawkeye's attention – something was not quite right about these medics.

Hawkeye wasn't sure, but he believed he fought with those men until one of them managed to stab him with that damned needle. Everything else was a drug haze blur before he woke up in this silent dark hell. Whatever they had given him had been fast acting and was probably the reason why his mouth was so damned dry now.

A hopeful sound broke Clint out of his thoughts – a solid metallic thud on the top of his cage.

At first the assassin was relieved, thinking he was finally being rescued – dug up from the Earth and would be freed from his would-be grave. However after the sound of scraping metal Clint's situation became much more dire. Water poured down over him like a waterfall, thick sheets of saltwater rained down soaking his skin as it quickly filled in the darkness – measured only by how fast his body was being submerged.

Clint's theory about being buried in dirt was wrong and his frantic heartbeat agreed that this reality was much, much worse.

_Perfect_.

Unable to successfully scream out his frustration Clint put his full effort into stopping himself from hyperventilating from his growing terror. His head was spinning unable to get a sufficient amount of oxygen into his shallow lungs – only able to inhale the quickly vanishing air through his nose.

Without being able to see Clint's torment only grew in intensity – he was going to drown in this silent darkness lost and completely alone.

Not silence – Barton reminded himself weakly. Over the rushing sound of the water filling in his coffin Clint could hear the sound of metal striking metal muffled outside of his cage. Unsure of what was creating the noise Clint decided to think on the positive side and die believing that the sound was Tony attempting to rescue him.

When the water reached his chin Hawkeye had a choice – prolong his death or give in. Never one to do things the easy way Clint took in a couple of deep practice breaths through his nose before holding onto the air as the salt water covered his face.

Fully submerged Hawkeye's lungs began to burn painfully as the sound of metal on metal came to a sudden stop.

Silence fell over Clint again as the darkness and water suffocated his life away. In that moment of painful realization Clint recognized the sound had probably been some sort of machinery built to open his cage and let the water in to snuff out his life – not Tony. There would be no rescue and he was really going to die in this watery hell – it was over.

And then suddenly there was a new noise – a high-pitched hum that was joined by a shrilling scratchy metal sound. When his arms were freed Clint immediately used them to rip the blindfold from his face. Iron manacles still circled his wrists heavily but Hawkeye was grateful he could move them once more. Ignoring the sharp sting of saltwater in his eyes Clint opened them and looked around to see Ironman had joined him in his coffin and was currently using a lazar to cut through the metal bindings still holding his ankles firmly to the chair.

Hawkeye's lungs felt like they were going to explode within him as he waited impatiently to be completely free. He struggled to hold on for a minute more before he reached out to Tony's suit – the dark spots in Clint's eyes were over powering him and Tony hadn't freed his legs yet. Grabbing the man's shoulder Barton hoped that Tony wouldn't feel too bad that he was too late.

Darkness consumed Hawkeye as he finally exhaled the air from his body and the water rushed freely down his nose and into his lungs – Clint knew that he would die but was grateful in his death he could once again see and that he didn't have to die alone.

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_I think this is the worse cliff hanger I've ever done...I'm sort of proud in a twisted way. ^^;_

_There will be more to the story, I promise! Probably not until next week though. This week and weekend is going to be mega busy! _

_Thanks for reading! Drop me a line if I managed to make you smile ^^_


	2. Chapter 2

_Hey guys! I'm so exhausted…so I'm going to keep this short._

_Nothing belongs to me…_

_Laatija was amazing and Beta'd this chapter for me (thanks so much for your suggestions!)_

_THANKS TO EVERYONE WHO REVIEWED AND ALERTED/FAVORITED you rock._

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And now Chapter Two:

"He just fucking gave up!" Tony Stark was ranting to Steve and Bruce as they waited for the doctor to bring news on their archer. "I mean I was right there saving his sorry little feathered ass and the bastard thought 'oh, this is the perfect time to give up' and inhaled a bunch of water. Idiot!"

Steve and Bruce exchanged knowing looks when Tony turned his back to them as he continued to pace angrily and animatedly around the room. It was obvious that, behind the solid mask of irrational anger, Tony was angrier with himself than Clint – angry for not getting there faster. It wasn't really Tony's fault at all. It wasn't Clint's either.

Once the three remaining Avengers had realized that Clint hadn't been taken back to Shield like they had thought, the frantic search had begun. Tony had been the one to find the connections that led them to believe a group of angered Shield agents – who had stupidly decided that Clint should have to pay for his actions while under Loki's brainwashing – had formulated a plan to punish and kill the Hawk.

Of course, those imbeciles had no idea how much Barton punished himself everyday after he'd regained control of his mind. The Avengers had seen the damage first hand. If Natasha hadn't force-fed him food then Clint would have faded away physically long before Tony had managed to weasel his way past Barton's mental barriers. That act had formed a bond between the two men – a strong friendship that made times like this hard on the billionaire playboy philanthropist.

"Clint is going to be fine, Tony," Banner spoke up carefully, his arms drawn tightly over his body in a protective manor. The good Doctor still wasn't a fan of heavily populated areas; the risk the other guy presented was too high. "We got him breathing again when you pulled him from the ocean – most of the water was out of his lungs."

When Ironman had surfaced with Clint's limp body they had all feared the worse. Steve had single-handedly subdued the agents on the boat while Bruce had been focusing on not hulking-out so that he could help Hawkeye medically if necessary.

Necessary it was.

Once Ironman settled Barton's drowned form on the deck the two other Avengers rushed forward. Immediately throwing himself into Doctor-Mode, Banner checked the Hawk's vitals with Tony and Steve hovering over his shoulder. He announced Clint wasn't breathing.

"This should never have happened," Tony snapped, drawing everyone's thoughts back to the present. Bruce could only nod silently in agreement while studying his arms that hugged his body protectively.

"I should have stayed with him," Steve piped up, unconsciously mirroring Banner's defensive posture by crossing his arms over his chest. He was their leader. He was supposed to protect his men from situations like this. "I should have noticed something was off with those agents."

Bruce was quick to defend the sensitive soldier. "They fooled us all. They were – "

"Fucking morons," Tony interrupted his fellow scientist bitterly, thrashing his arms around as he continued to stalk back and forth across the floor.

Banner shrugged, "Well, I was going to say 'pretending to be on our side' but that works to."

Tony ignored them as his tirade continued. "Fury better have some sort of special punishment for those backstabbing—"

"Ahem," A young doctor appeared at Clint's hospital room door and clearing her throat to gather the Avengers' attention – effectively cutting off what would have been the start to another long and probably colorful rant from Tony. "Agent Barton is awake and demanding to return to the tower. I can imagine that you three will be happy to give him a ride."

"How is he?" Steve was the first to ask, standing and practically rushing the small women who easily stood her ground.

The doctor gave a cat like smile before answering, looking directly up into Captain America's worried eyes. "Waterlogged and grouchy, but otherwise fine. You'll need to watch his breathing carefully – he did inhale quite an impressive amount of water. I've written him a prescription for a strong anti-biotic that will help fend off any nasty lung infections from whatever bacteria might have been lurking in the water he inhaled. His wrist was slightly fractured so we've given him a brace for it. Lucky for Agent Barton, his bones have always healed fast. Apart from his rather impressive assortment of bruising there is nothing else worth mentioning. Agent Barton is going to be fine."

The collective tension in the three Avengers teammates faded away with the positive news. "Thank you, doctor." Steve offered the young women before she threw them a smile and waved before walking off to check on other patients.

"He should be ready to leave now!" she called over her shoulder before vanishing down a hallway.

"Quite right, I am ready to leave." Barton made his appearance, his voice causing his three friends to snap their heads in his direction. Dressed in a pair of pale blue scrubs instead of his dark uniform Hawkeye looked different. Anyone outside the Avengers would see a strong man who had bounced back from near-death. Those closer to him knew better. They all saw right through his transparent act. What they saw was a pale, vulnerable, and shaken man. What had happened to the Hawk echoed subtly under the brave front he was putting on for his friends . To be attacked by your own agency for things you were trying to forget was like taking a knife to still healing scars just to watch them bleed.

"Good to see you back on your feet, Clint." Steve grinned broadly, secretly hoping that the archer wouldn't relapse back to his silent self-punishment once everything sunk in. The Captain worried that if the archer did fall back into darkness they might not be able to pull him back to the light this time. How much more punishment could one person take?

Bruce nodded along with their leaders comment, offering his own uneasy smile. "You had us worried there for a moment," he admitted kindly.

Tony just glared silently for a moment, capturing the others attention before speaking his burning thought out loud. "Moron!" he finally snapped before turning and storming away leaving the others staring after him.

A moment of awkward silence passed over the group before Clint spoke up. "What's got his iron laced panties in a bunch?"

Bruce and Steve passed another knowing look between each other before offering twin shrugs to Barton.

"He's still a little stressed." Steve offered verbally before Bruce stepped forward.

"Personally," Bruce smiled in his shy way curled lips hiding behind his hand as he talked, "I think he's afraid of Natasha finding out you got nabbed and almost drowned on our watch."

Clint smirked with real humor shinning in his stormy blue eyes. "Ah, I can see how that would be quite stressful." The assassin shook his head lightly before continuing. "Although, if Nat's going to be pissed at anyone it'll probably be me for being dumb enough to get caught in the first place."

When the three finally arrived back at the tower Tony was no where to be found – not that any of them were outright looking for him. The team respected the rare moments when Stark wanted to be alone. Tony had opened his home to a group of misfit strangers after the Loki incident so it seemed fair to respect when he needed space. Besides the distance never lasted very long since Tony was a social creature by nature. He just wasn't Tony if he wasn't trying to be the center of attention.

Banner and Steve aggressively bullied Barton into resting.

"Can't I eat first?" Clint whined lightly, his heart not really into playing with the others. The assassin was exhausted and his various aches and pains were making themselves known. Pain was running through the archer's muscles like little kids in hotel hallways. It was annoying.

Bruce pursed his lips for a minute before nodding, "If you're hungry, I suppose you should eat. But then you _will_ rest." There was no room for argument and Clint knew if he tried Banner would end up winning anyway – the shy man could be surprisingly stubborn when it came to the team's health.

Rolling his eyes Clint moved towards the kitchen only to be blocked by Steve. "I'll fix you something. Go sit down. Or better yet, go lay down."

With a huff of almost defiance Clint thought about arguing. Steve wasn't known for his cooking skills – that was the archer's department – but seeing the hard look in the Captain's eyes Barton thought better of it and gave in. "Fine," he groaned out slowly, heading over to the couch while trying to mask his limp.

Briefly, Clint paused, glancing down a hallway with a small internal debate on changing out of the scrubs he'd been issued for a pair of sweats and a more comfortable tee shirt. Too far, the injured agent decided. He'd change when the others forced him to sleep.

Settling on the couch Clint leaned back and closed his eyes – he was completely drained. A day fighting super villains took a lot out of a non 'super' hero – that and the whole almost drowning thing. _Maybe_, Clint thought tiredly, _I should have simply given into those two mother hens' clucking and retreated to my bed_.

Feeling Bruce watching him, the Hawk skillfully ignored the man with his eyes still closed as he waited for his food. The archer's mind started to drift slightly back to the idea of his bed – sleep was sounding better and better.

The sudden sound of rushing water had the half sleeping agent jolting forward sending twinges of pain radiating throughout his already abused body. For that second, Clint was back in that cage and the water was replacing the air around him – that second was too long. Eyes wide-open Clint cursed himself for letting that pathetic sounding gasp escape his lips unchecked.

Bruce and Steve both were watching him now in frozen horror – the worry obvious in everything from expression to posture.

It took a second for the Captain to realize running the tap water had been a mistake. "I'm sorry—" Steve started to apologize.

"Don't you hate when you just start to fall asleep and you suddenly get that sharp falling feeling that wakes you up again?" Clint laughed the incident off as he shot to his feet – trying to pretend the simple sound of the sink turning on hadn't pulled him back into that cage.

"I'll take it as a sign. I should just go to sleep." He waved them off when they both started to protest, efficiently cutting down the blatant worry. "I'll be in my room if the world needs saving," he called over his shoulder in a cheerful tone as he threw a mock solute at the Captain with his good hand. Once he'd finished playing the part, Barton wasted no time in exiting the kitchen – all but fleeing to the safety of his room.

"Moron," Clint cursed himself once his door was shut solidly behind him. The archer didn't need one more thing to prove he was too weak to be an Avenger. His record so far wasn't exactly promising. First Barton's mind had been possessed by an alien artifact causing him to turn on his own people – as well as the world. Then, once he came to his senses long enough to save the world, he had turned into a self-loathing walking zombie – someone who was useless to everybody. And now he was having waking flashbacks after something as stupid as near-drowning. The once formidable assassin was quickly losing every scrap of badass credibility he once had as a Shield agent.

Yes Clint had been sure he was about to die, but it wasn't exactly the first time something traumatic happened to him and it certainly wasn't the worse thing. All those other times he'd faced death Clint had managed – for the most part – to suffer away from others and recover quickly. The Hawk had been able to hide his weakness and work things out in the shadows.

Perhaps the reason this little misadventure bothered him so much was because he had given up. That thought sent a sudden chill creeping down the agent's spine. Where had that idea come from? Of course he hadn't given up! He'd held on even when he hadn't been sure there'd be rescue.

But what if the reason Barton fought to stay alive was only to extend his suffering – prolong the punishment the Hawk secretly still thought he deserved?

"No," Clint hissed at himself, stopping himself from contemplating the possibility any further. He wasn't suicidal. Still the Hawk's storm colored eyes narrowed at the dark thoughts – why hadn't he tried to hold on a little longer once he saw Tony was rescuing him?

His lungs had been burning – he couldn't wait any longer.

Or could he have?

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_That's it for now, I'm exhausted and I have a full day of shooting tomorrow (with a camera, not a gun…) so I need to get me some rest! ^^;_

_Goodnight and thank you for reading (Or good morning…good afternoon…whatever applies)_

_Reviews and Reviewers are loved (just a little fyi ^^)_


	3. Chapter 3

_Thanks for all who followed this story! Your reviews and alerts/favorites made/make me smile ^^_

_Special thanks to my Beta Laatija (but if any mistakes remain they are mine for sure ^^)_

_Here is the last chapter!_

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Deprivation Chapter Three

Tony dove into the ocean once Jarvis had announced a heat signature in the water. Actually, there had been two heat signatures, both incased in metal – one man in what looked like an seriously out of place elevator car and the other in a body suit built for underwater construction.

The heat signature in the suit was currently in the process of ripping open the top of the elevator car when Tony's eyes fixed on the scene.

"Fuck," Tony hissed, slamming into the other suit to knock him away from the metal box already filling with water. In his panicking heart, he knew that Clint was trapped in there.

Pushing the other man away, Tony aimed his thrusters to return to his friend's cage. There was a good joke in there somewhere – the Hawk in a cage – but the hilarity would have to wait until after he got Clint free.

Before Tony could reach into the drowned elevator car something crashed into his back. "Do the bad guys ever just give up? I mean come on! For once I'd like something to be easy!" Especially when it came to saving someone he considered a friend from a rather unpleasant death.

The two metal suits squared off but Tony knew that he had the upper hand. The suit the Shield Agent was misusing was not constructed for battle, a few well placed hits and it would be taking on water and the circuits would be fried. The guy deserved to be dismantled and left at the bottom of the ocean but that wasn't how the Avengers worked. Unfortunately.

"Jarvis lock onto target and prepare a controlled EMP wave. Let's make this guy dead in the water." Tony tried to maintain his carefree voice, but it was strained with simmering anger.

"Not literally dead, right Ironman?" Steve's voice came over the comm. link. He was busy taking on the group on the ship.

Making a humorless noise through his nose, Tony followed it with a dramatic sigh. "First of all, 'dead in the water' is a figure of speech even you should know. Secondly, I'm not going to kill him. Although it's very tempting."

Once the blast had successfully disabled his opponent's suit, Tony set his sights on the elevator car once more.

Seeing the last bubble of air rush from the opening the rouge Shield Agent had created, Tony's heart nearly stopped. "Don't be dead. I'll kill you if you're dead," Tony whispered, sending Bruce and Steve shouting in his ears in equal panic. Focusing his efforts, Tony sped forward, pulling the metal further apart and slipping into the small space.

Clint's pale white skin reflected patches of light shinning from the opening of the cage, his short hair swaying gracefully in the slight current running through the elevator's water supply. Bound in heavy chains, gagged and blindfolded Tony immediately thought the Hawk was already dead until Clint's head moved, tipping to the side carefully as if listening for something. It was enough to excite Stark back into frantic action.

"Hold on Clint." Tony dropped the code names and quickly aimed his laser at the chains holding the Hawk in place – first his arms and thenthe archer's legs. Two seconds into the task, Tony cursed his lasers strength, vowing to invent a better one for situations like these.

Once Barton's hands were free, the archer ripped off his blindfold to take in the scene around him. Tony's stomach turned a bit as he saw the raw fear in Clint's tri-colored eyes. To be trapped like this, unable to move or see while drowning, was unthinkable.

"Don't worry, Barton, soon I'll have you out of these chains and back on dry land. I think you got yourself mixed up with a parrot. You're a Hawk, you shouldn't try and work with pirates. It's not politically correct."

Although Tony was aware Hawkeye's comm was long gone it was in his nature to babble when tension was thick. "Oh, and by the way, since I'm rescuing your damsel-in-distress-ass, you're making me sushi. Don't think I don't know that you can. Natasha was telling me all about – "

A hand brushed against Tony's armored shoulder, causing the words to catch in Ironman's mouth as he looked up at his teammate. What he saw was a look of apology mixed with dark acceptance. "No!" Tony snapped sharply, but it was already too late. The last bit of air in Clint's lungs was expelled from his nose and the light went out of the assassin's eyes and his lids fluttered shut…

Tony shot up in bed, drenched in sweat as he cried out.

Clint had died! The man had let go after everything! After all the work of dragging his ass – kicking and screaming – back to normal after the whole Loki fiasco, the archer had simply given up! How dare Clint just allow himself to die?

No, the master assassin was not dead. Despite Clint's best efforts, Bruce had managed to bring him back to life. "Selfish son of a bitch!" Tony cursed. "And now he's messing with my beauty sleep." Growling Tony flung his soaked covers off of his body and swung his legs so his feet touched the floor. Groaning loudly Tony tipped forward, cupping his face in his hands as he pushed the persistent images of his nightmare away by rubbing at his eyes.

Pepper was off doing business like things leaving the billionaire alone. In a way, Tony was glad. It was always embarrassing when he had nightmares. After all, he was Ironman. Strong, solid, super-hero Ironman wasn't allowed to be weak.

Glaring at the clock, Tony saw it was only early morning. The others would no doubt still be asleep. Well, except for Clint. The man rarely slept – almost never when Natasha was gone.

"Perfect time to give that jerk a piece of my mind," Tony ground out, leaving his bed and heading out on his self appointed mission. Bypassing all the other typical spots – the range, the kitchen, various 'nests' the Hawk had created around the tower – Tony knew exactly where to find the archer. The roof.

Tony didn't really understand the man's obsession with heights – it wasn't normal. Sure Tony liked flying around at breakneck speeds in his suit but that was safe. What wasn't safe was sitting on the edge of the tallest building in the city without anything securing you from a deadly fall.

As predicted, it was there that Tony found his target, perched right up on the edge of the Avengers tower scanning the city streets below.

"You know, just because the city never sleeps doesn't mean you don't have to." The normally lighthearted banter was a bit sharper tonight. Tony was still pissed.

Without looking up or over, Clint chuckled lightly at the comment. "Are you finished sulking yet?"

"If I were finished sulking do you think I'd be up here at this hour?" Tony shot back bitterly. "But no, I'm not enjoying my rather expensive custom made bed. Instead I'm dreaming about you!"

The assassin glanced back at that, smirking playfully at his billionaire friend. "Kinky. Does Pepper know?" Clint joked, standing up wobbly – his injured knee aching from the position it had been in for probably hours. Clint had only gotten a few hours of sleep before his own nightmares chased him up to the roof.

Tony's breath hitched slightly as he watched his teammate falter. "What are you trying to do get yourself killed?" The anger came back full force as he moved forward and physically pulled Clint away from the edge. "Are you seriously suicidal? Or are you just trying to piss me off more?"

"You worried about me Stark?" Clint tried to make light of Tony's anger but fell short when his eyes went distant again – face tight with tension.

Both men were silent for a moment longer before Tony's voice broke out once more. "You want to tell me why you gave up?"

"I didn't give up." Clint pulled away from his friend's scrutinizing glare knowing that his words weren't convincing.

"Yeah, that sounded sincere. Wanna try again?" Stark snapped, moving to stand in front of the archer again.

With a sigh Barton fell silent as he avoided Tony's watching gaze. "I'm not sure what happened. I fought and then I stopped fighting."

"Yeah, I got that. I was there, remember?" Tony's voice was still edgy but was losing a lot of the bite. "Why?"

With a defeated sigh, Clint moved over to lean against the wall next to the door leading back into the tower. "I'm tired, Tony," the assassin admitted, eyes closed as his head tipped back.

"That's what a bed is for. Maybe I need to buy you a dictionary." Tony studied his friend carefully; something about Barton's stance told him it was more than just fatigue that was bothering him.

"I'm worn out Tony," Clint expanded. "I'm tired of who I am now – knowing I used to be stronger. I'm drained from the nightmares and the whispers back at S.H.I.E.L.D. I'm tired of being hated by comrades and I'm exhausted for hating myself." He sighed, opening his eyes. "I didn't think I was going to make it out of that cage and, for a moment, I was grateful I would finally get to rest."

"That's not rest. That's death. There's a difference, look it up sometime." Tony's words had lost all backing to them. Now he was afraid – afraid that after everything they were still going to lose Clint to himself. "You aren't a coward, Clint. You don't get the easy way out."

With broken eyes, Barton nodded. "I know I don't."

Unable to find his voice for a second Tony stared at the agent. Was everything with Clint a mask? All that pride Stark had felt for fixing his broken teammate slipped away. He hadn't fixed anything at all. Everything Clint pretended to be had been an illusion.

"I don't deserve it." The Hawk's eyes dropped away from Tony. There was something left unsaid in Clint's voice – something darker.

"You didn't deserve what happened to you," Tony snapped. "None of us did. Think about it. Steve didn't deserve to lose his world and wake up in ours; Natasha didn't deserve to be trained as a killer basically her whole life; Bruce didn't deserve to redefine the condition for split personalities; and Thor didn't deserve to have a psychotic brother betray his world and try to take over ours. Life has dealt us all crappy hands but we make the best of it. We stick together and get through it. We're a team. We need you."

"What about you?" Clint asked suddenly.

"What? Well, I guess I need you too," Tony said uncomfortably, a little taken aback at the odd question.

"No, what was it that you didn't deserve?" the archer clarified.

Tony was silent for a moment before answering. "I didn't deserve to watch you nearly die for starters. I could write a book of other reasons if you'd like."

"I think I'll wait for the movie." Clint smirked lightly grateful for the security of playful banter. The two fell silent for a moment before Barton spoke up again. "So, do we need to hug it out or something?"

"I'd prefer it if we skipped the Hallmark moment and go get a couple beers instead." Tony winced and then paused. "So, you're not going to do that again, right?"

"What? Nearly die in front of you? By now, I know it's an occupational hazard –"

"No, you moron – although it would be nice if you avoided doing that in the future." Tony interrupted him with a roll of his eyes. "I mean, you know, you aren't going to give up like that again?"

Smirking slightly, Clint looked up from the ground and met Tony's eyes. "I promise to fight. It's not in my nature to give up anyway."

"So you're okay? Because I'm here if you need –"

"If the chick flick moment is over, I'd like that beer now."It was Clint's turn to interrupt Tony, grinning smugly at the older man.

"Fine, let's throw caution to the wind and get drunk." Tony rolled his eyes, but accepted the end to their conversation. Clint had already opened up a lot more then he typically would to someone not petite, fierce, redheaded and Russian. For now he'd have to watch Clint's back and help him day by day return back to normal.

* * *

_I realize I could expand this a bit more, but honestly this was only supposed to be a one-shot and then I wanted to 'not' kill Clint off (like I'd do that anyway) and wrap things up. Hopefully I did it justice! If you have ideas on how this could be continued I don't mind hearing them. I'd probably write a sequel/follow up if people were interested. _

_Oh, and for all you BlackHawk Fan's I've started writing a Five Times story that deals with the beginning/development of their relationship. So feel free to check it out!_

_Reviews forever make me smile ^^_

_Thanks for reading!_


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